


Deep Quiet of the Night

by DickChaser



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickChaser/pseuds/DickChaser
Summary: Moira Brown, young and energetic, has left the comfortable world of Megaton behind for the promise of scientific gains in the deep south. She has really only experienced the wild world through her research while writing her wildly popular "Wasteland Survival Guide" A woman on her own in the wasteland is sure to encounter a plethora of problems once her caps and luck run out. Especially one as naive and often gullible as Moira.Prepare to fall in love.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfic. Go easy on me. There's no smut yet - but it's coming. No pun intended.

The room was filled with smoke. Except instead of smoke from a burning cigarette, the woman pinned into a corner booth was convinced it was the body odor of the drunken man at the bar. Each time he moved, his unique aroma wafted into her nostrils, nearly drawing vomit to explode from her mouth. Moira had experienced a lot since leaving Megaton three months ago, hell she reckoned she had experienced a whole lot the wasteland had to offer since leaving Cantebury Commons at fourteen. The smell of this man was something new altogether. Not even ‘The Lone Wanderer’ had smelled so bad after returning from his expeditions while he helped her complete the “Survival Guide.” 

Moira sat quietly in the small cantina. She was trying not to draw any attention to herself. A place like this wasn’t all that interested in a patron that wasn’t buying something. Her bottlecaps had run out days ago, and surviving on Molerat meat wasn’t so bad. It was the darkness that occupied the nighttime that a woman traveling alone had to look out for. The monsters of the wasteland thrived in the shadows, and so did the other humans looking to prey on an unsuspecting traveler. A raider wouldn’t care that she was Moira Brown, the famous author. A face that changed the wasteland. She heard rumors her guide even made it all the way out to the Mojave wasteland. Maybe she would make it out there one day and find out for herself. For now, she just wanted to get on with her objective of making it through tonight, and back on the road toward Georgia. Rumors swirled in her scientific circles that a group of revolutionary thinkers had taken up a stronghold in the ruins of Atlanta. Protected by a battalion of Brotherhood of Steel elite soldiers, they were working to enhance the daily life of Wastelanders. She quickly closed up Craterside Supply, pocketed as many bottle caps as she could carry and left to fulfill her thirst for knowledge.

The daydream full of innovation was interrupted when a man slid into the rotting both across from her. He began to tap the table top to get her attention. As her glazed over eyes regained their focus, an involuntary look of disgust went unnoticed across her face.

“Hey, beautiful.” The man burped out, his words smelling like old beer. His finger stopped tapping the table and was now running circles in the middle. He wasn’t just dirty, his skin was stained an orange and brown tint. It would have looked great on the wall of Craterside Moira imagined as she eyed the man.

“Can I help you?” She asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

“What’s your name?”

“Glad you asked. I’m Moira. You might’ve heard of me. Do any reading?” 

“Reading?” the man retorted with a laugh. “Nah. I’m as smart as I need to be.”

“Apparently.” Moira retorted. Her eyes darted away from the man slithering his arm across the table, trying to catch the gaze of the single waiter working. What was his name again, she pondered in her head to drown out the man's voice. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing in an ugly place like this?” The man asked. It wasn’t the question that dragged her away from trying to decide the waiters preferred spelling of Michael, it was his gaping mouth as he smiled at her. Somewhere, somehow this man actually found himself handsome and was trying to convince her of it too.

“Actually, I was just leaving.” Moira explained as she stood to her feet. Her left hand was trembling as she held her composure, standing tall over the man. “Have a good night mister.” 

She was half way across the restaurant, the exit and the darkness it welcomed her into were only a dozen feet away. Her feet slowed enough to gather the letters on the waiter's nametag. My’Qell. Of course. A roar of laughter erupted from inside the restaurant as a second man slammed a closed fist down on the counter.

My’Qell brushed past Moira as he approached the ruckus. She wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation between them, but noticed her new table buddy was now sitting next to the funny man. They were talking boisterously. She pushed the door open and fought against her instincts into the night air. She didn’t know where she was, had nowhere to go, no caps to get there.

“Well, this should be fun.” Pulling her overcoat closed across her chest, more for comfort than the cool breeze blowing across her exposed skin. She wasn’t prepared for the weather. D.C. had started to get cold when she left, but reports of the American south were warm. She came dressed in just her oil-stained tank top and mechanic pants. The too-big sized jacket she found just sitting on the road. With most things found in the wasteland, it was torn and blood had dried along the edges. Someone didn’t need it anymore.

She took two dozen steps away from the diner. Trying to put as much space between herself and the creep inside. The street was deserted, what other buildings resided on the block were dilapidated. Turning a full three-hundred and sixty degrees, there was nothing but commotion inside the diner. Moira quickly ducked behind the burnt out remains of a car, scattered across the cracked pavement. She peeked her head above the door, where the broken window panes would sit. Inside the diner, the two loud men from earlier were both now standing. My’Qell had both his hands toward them in a defensive gesture. The creep that had been harassing her earlier reached out and shoved him to the ground. His friend quickly released a small pistol from his pocket. The light from the gunfire lit up the outside street, and Moira quickly dipped deep into the mud at her feet. 

The wait felt like forever. The anxiety flowing through her body made her hurt all over. It all changed when an unmistakable noise broke the deep quiet of the night. The diner door swung open, its metal frame smashed against the aluminum exterior of the building with a thud. 

From her lackluster bunkered position, Moira heard the footsteps of the two assailants walk toward her. Her heart began to increase in velocity as they approached. The two men stopped just short of the car. She could see their feet turn, as the old rusted metal groaned under the pressure of their combined weight.

“I can’t believe you let that broad get away.” Moira heard one of the two men say. It wasn’t a familiar voice. The seated partner.

“Aw come on. I hadn’t finished my pie yet.” There was a familiar voice. Stained skin man.

“What’s your deal with pie anyway, Ralphie?”

“Pie is like slicing a womans throat while getting a blowjob from her.”

The imagery made Moira cringe. She herself had never done such a thing. Had her throat slit, or given a blowjob, or for that matter received one. Though, her curiosity on the subject might be vanquished soon. She tried her best to lay still, too afraid of what might happen.

“I’m more of a cake kinda guy. Pie is just crust with a small filling.”

“We’ve been hanging around each other for almost a year now Phil, one thing I know about you is you’re already just a crust with a small filling. If you know what I mean.” 

“Hey man. Fuck you.” Moira could only hear the struggle. The car whined again as their weight lifted off the metal. One man shoved the other, but she could only see his back as he fell to the ground. The pounding sound of kicks landing against a body was easy enough to recognize.

“Look what you made me do Ralph. God damn. You was a son of a bitch though. Don’t think I don’t know why your skin was turning colors though. You stuck yourself balls deep in that ghoul back a few months ago.”

The revelation caused Moira to gasp aloud. Instinctively her hands both cupped her mouth as if they were inviting the sound to sweep back in.

Phil stood still. He had heard a noise alright. “You still kicking?” he asked aloud, bending down toward the lifeless body of his former friend. He placed his hand on the mans chest. There was no movement. He slowly withdrew the pistol from its hidden pocket.

“Hello?” He hollered into the empty night.

His request was met with silence. Moira’s hands were still pressed as tightly as possible against her thin lips. She couldn’t do anything about the thundering in her chest.

“I know someone is hiding. You’re going to die one way or the other. Make it easy on both of us.” His footsteps slowly worked their way away from the dead body. They inched toward the end of the car.

Moira knew she had nowhere to go. There was no escape. Death, the only thing truly promised to anyone in the Wasteland had caught up to her. Her life flashed before her, the way it does for anyone on the verge of an abyss. Questions, so many unanswered questions.

The man inside called me pretty. Did he mean it? I’ve never thought I was ugly but pretty? Who knows.

What’s a blowjob anyway?

I wonder if My’Qell was his real name. 

His footsteps stopped. She could feel the cold of his shadow standing over her. He said something, but Moira couldn’t hear him. It just bounced off and away into the night.

Then there was a single gunshot. The boom hurt her ears. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, they still burned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira is saved just before being murdered in the street. Her savior brings her back to his place and.... Gives her the worst news she has ever heard. Her home, Megaton was destroyed by the only man she had ever trusted. The Lone Wanderer.
> 
> What now?

Her skin was wet. The soaked feeling extended both across her arms and started to creep up what was exposed of her skin. Moira was alive though, and no amount of uncomfortable feeling was going to change that. Though inhaling mud by the breath-full made her question how long that would last. There was too much weight laying across her torso to be able to escape the drowning. Her lungs were on fire trying to catch as much air as the tightness would allow. 

“Someone saved me just to let me die?” The words resonated in her head. Irony had a way of holding onto you in the Wasteland. Just as Moira was ready to give up, the weight was lifted off of her. She was pulled from her stomach, and rolled onto her back. A set of strong hands lifted her head off the ground. 

“Are you okay?” A voice asked. It was deep, full of vigor. The strong pair of hands still supporting her head as dirt and water dredged from her mouth.

She only nodded an affirmative. Trying to talk only forced larger heaps of sediment to be released onto the ground next to her.

“We’ve got to get out of here. I’m sure these guys have more friends waiting around somewhere.” With a swift motion, the mysterious man lifted Moira to her feet. One hand placed on the small of her back, she was able to drape her arm over his shoulder. The man led the way into the darkness. The pair traversed through the maze corridors of broken alleys. He knew where they were going.

“Can we stop soon?” Moira panted. The air rushed into her lungs. They burned as they struggled to keep up. Most of the mud had made its way out of her body, but it still coated her throat in patches. 

“We’re almost there. I have a place just around this next corner.” 

As they crossed around the threshold, a solid wooden door was placed in the center of a brick wall. Most of the higher bricks were gone, but the base was solid, and some of the red stones looked new. The man released his strong grip on her and approached the door. He inserted a key into the lock and the entrance opened to expose darkness.

“It’s not much, but it’ll keep you safe.” The man instructed her. He folded his hands toward the open door.

Moira took a step back. She wasn’t sure this was any safer then falling into the mud again. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t even know you. Out of the fire, into the frying pan. You know?

The man sighed. He had just saved her from being ravished and killed, and she wanted to know who he was?

“The names Farmer. I’m a good guy for the most part. I have a son. I don’t want anything from you, I didn’t even know you existed before that asshole landed on you, and right now I just want us to get inside.”

Moira nodded. She didn’t have much choice. It was the middle of the night and now she was lost in the midst of a ramshackle city. She took a deep breath and paced the few steps toward the door. Just as she was about to cross into his space, the man stepped in the way, causing her to bounce off his torso.

“What are you doing?” She asked confused by the gesture.

“I mean you made a good point. A few minutes ago we were strangers. Now you know who I am, but I’m still clueless about who you are.”

“My name is Moira. Moira Brown. I wrote a book once.”

“Wait. You’re THE Moira Brown? You wrote “The Wasteland Survival Guide.”?

“The one and only. I mean I don’t know everyone alive, so there could be another Moira Brown out there somewhere. I doubt she’s written a guide though. Any who, You’ve read it?”

“Your Molerat research saved a bunch of lives out west. I hear they’re finding ways to domesticate them now for livestock. You’ve done more for the world then anyone since the great war.”

The skin on her face grew hot, she could feel it sprawling across from edge to edge. “Truthfully that Lone Wanderer fella’ did all the field research. I just compiled the data for people to understand.”

“Wait, you worked with the Lone Wanderer? I knew him, once upon a time.”

“Well it seems we’re friends now. At least two people with a common friend.”

“I agree.” Farmer nodded. He moved to the side to allow the woman to enter. As he closed the door behind them, the darkness slowly began to give way. An overhead light was fading on. After a full minute the single room was bright. 

“I would give you the grand tour.” He announced, spinning in a full three-hundred degree circle. “But I think once you’ve seen it, you’ve seen it all. I don’t have much, but I’ll whip you up something to eat.”

“I’m absolutely famished.” She admitted, following her empty footsteps into the room. He lived modestly, more so then most anyone else she had ever met so far in the wastes. Even raiders had radios from what she had heard in Moriarty’s Saloon. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’re you doing so far south? Never expected you of all people would show up on my doorstep.”

“Heard about some good working going on in Atlanta. Thought I could do my part to help.”

“Look.” He said. The word drifted off, and hung in the room between them as he turned away from the open fire he used as a way to cook. “I’m sorry about your home. What happened is just terrible. I’m glad you weren’t there. You’re the only person in the wasteland worth being saved anyway.”

Moira froze. She was confused. It had been over two months since meeting someone who had even been the D.C. area. Traveling isn’t exactly a priority anymore. 

“What are you talking about? What happened?” She instinctively reached both hands out and held onto the single chair frame.

“How long have you been gone?” He asked, ignoring her question for now. It was more important to find out what she already knew and go from there.

“Just over six months. I sold off Craterside and left.”

“Well that mutual friend of ours, The Lone Wanderer? From what I hear, he was hired to blow up the bomb in town. Wiped everything out. I’m so sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

“That isn’t possible. It’s just not possible. Lucas would never have let that happen!”

“Again, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. It’s true though, I went and seen for myself. The crater was gigantic. I tried to hunt the Lone Wanderer down myself, but he disappeared into the wind. I’ve heard he was given a suite inside Tenpenny towers and just holed up there.”

“Did anyone. Uh, anyone else survive?”

“Not that I know of. Even a caravan out front was obliterated.”

It seemed a whirlwind was taking over her. The room was spinning fast, then stopped. Abruptly it would begin shaking up and down before spinning the opposite direction. Moira closed her eyes tight, but it didn’t stop the wavering sensation from taking hold. She fell to the ground with a hard thud.

“Ah, shit.” Farmer said out loud. He knew she had only fainted, but hitting the ground like that didn’t feel good once you woke up. Not to mention he was just too damn busy to deal with the emotional distress this woman was going through.

He was able to heft her petite frame off the floor, and cradled her in his arms. It was an easy few steps to the dirty cot mattress against the far wall. He placed her down, pulling the brown fuzzy blanket over her. 

“We’ll talk in the morning.” He announced quietly, leaving her to sleep off her trauma. “For now, I guess I’ll enjoy this Cram and Dandy Apples.” 

Farmer sat in the lone chair. He wondered what she was really doing here. Coincidences were a rarity in the wasteland.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and her new friend, Farmer, are forced to leave the safety of his hideout. They dive deeper into the cement jungle of the destroyed city he lives on the outskirts of. Inside they discover a threat of equal danger to the one chasing them. They have to make a decision, flee one enemy for the immediate safety of another, or does Moira realize neither are her battles to fight?

The smell was indistinguishable. Burning flesh. It filled her nose like the aroma of brahma steak burgers on a warm evening. The air was so hot when she took a breath, the inside of her body even felt warm. The taste was nothing to scoff at too, she noted. It almost tasted like brahma steak burgers. Then it slide down her throat like soft butter. Her tongue. Moira realized at that moment she was melting. Not an experience she was familiar with, she made the most of the opportunity. Lifting both arms above her head, she watching her slim arms slide from the bone. It fell to the ground at what was left of her legs. The air around her began to clear and her view was gaining traction in the smoke. It was home. The inside of Craterside supply was obvious enough to Moira, even with the front caved in. The entire left wall was missing as she approached. A burning, oozing Megaton laid outside. She was home again. Home, sweet, home.

“Moira?” A familiar voice asked into the darkness. She didn’t see anyone else. 

A frantic feeling took hold of her. Panic caused her to stumble, tripping on debris on the floor. Opening her eyes, the world was different again.

“Are you okay?” The familiar voice had a face. It was Farmer. He was standing over her, his strong grip tightened on her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Moira shook her head to clear it for reality. “Whats going on?”

“We have to leave.” Farmer rushed back toward the one chaired table. He was dropping a handful of small items into a canvas bag. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to leave now.” The extra emphasis caused Moira to roll off the cot and hop onto her feet.

“What is it? Are the friends of those men here?”

“Who? Oh. No. They’re nothing compared to what’s about to show up.” Farmer laced his arms into the shoulder straps of the canvas bag, and reached his hand out for hers. She accepted the invitation. 

The pair raced out the only entrance. He didn’t bother to secure the door behind them. Moira found that odd. She figured the only time you didn’t protect your belongings was if you didn’t plan on coming back to them. It was impossible to remember anything about their escape, the inner alleys and small streets all felt the same. They were desolate, empty of any life. In a breeze they fit through a small gap in a solid metal fence. 

Farmer took a deep breath, “I think we’ll be okay.” He took the bag off and sat it next to an elevated concrete block, and sat on the cool stone. He patted the empty space next to him. Offer her a seat. 

“Who are we running from?” Moira asked, dropping her bottom next to him.

“I spent some time in the Mojave. Looking for my son. Ending up owing some bad guys a nice chunk of money.”

“That’s unfortunate. Did you find him?”

“Not really.” Farmer admitted with an ironic laugh. “Seems he was nomadic too. Always on the move looking for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear. That’s an interesting cycle you guys are stuck in though.”

“He’s a grown man now. Has been for a while. Decided to take a break from my work and see if I could find him.”

“What do you do for work anyway?” Moira asked. It was a question she had been dying to ask since the night before. Even more now that he left everything he owned behind.

Voices echoed into their seclusion. They were muffled but their structure was frantic. They were lost looking for something, or someone.

“We’ve got to get going.” Farmer suggested, and in an instant they were a hundred yards deeper into the ruins. 

The pair ascended the remains of a large office building. Its windows long crushed into shatters of glass. The bottom half a dozen floors remained intact, while the top floors had plummeted around its base. They lay sloped against the outside, offering ramp access. Farmer led Moira into the canopied shelter. The inside was barren. Nothing remained except the skeletal frame holding the ramshackle building erect.

“Looks like someone picked this bone clean.” Moira noted, tracing behind Farmers steps. “Who would spend so much time doing it?”

“Someone who needs a lot of supplies, has a lot of hands, and needs a good place to hide.”

“Some kind of multi-handed bandit? Sounds scary.”

Farmer turned and looked at her in disbelief, shook the thought from his head and turned back toward where he had been looking. “It was probably them, actually.” He nodded out the small window. Moira looked out in disbelief. It was an entire city. 

She had never seen anything like it before. Its size was larger than anything she had ever seen. It was constructed from half snapped steel beams and sheets of drywall. The expansive city spread out through the cleared area, and in some places rose until it combined into the collapsed buildings surrounding it. 

“What is this place?” She asked. The wheels in her head were already spinning. The giant ‘Fuck You’ was painted in a deep red across a large wooden fence. Raiders.

“They call it Veil. It’s the biggest raider settlement in the wasteland.”

“Why would you bring us here?”

“The other bad guys won’t chase us in there. If they catch us, they’ll kill us on sight. These guys probably won’t.”

“They’re just going to invite us to dinner?”

“I’ll make you a deal Moira. Now is your chance. I’ll lead you out of here and you can keep on your trip to Atlanta.”

“That isn’t fair. You saved my life. Do we at least have a plan?”

“Step one, get captured. Step two, escape. Step three, stay alive. Bonus points if we get these raiders to kill those bill collectors.”

“That’s not a very good plan. How do you know the raiders won’t just kill us as soon as we’re captured, or worse?”

“Fair point. I guess it’s a job perk.”

“You never did tell me what your job was.” Moira pressed the question with an unwavering gaze.

“It’s hard to explain. I do what I can for people in trouble. If I sense them in trouble I get to them as quick as I can. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Is that how you knew the Lone Wanderer?” Moira asked. The Lone Wanderer had never mentioned anyone helping him. He never mentioned much, and she had never asked. A strictly working relationship.

“Yeah. He was a good guy back then.”

Moira nodded. The Lone Wanderer was a good guy when she knew him too. She didn’t know his whole story. Only that he came out of one of those vaults. Looking for his dad. It didn’t matter to her.

After they both sulked in their own nostalgia for a quiet moment, “If you have anything valuable, leave it stashed here. Once we escape we’ll come back and get it.” Farmer instructed. He shoved the sack into a tight crevice buried in the concrete.

“Do we just walk down with our hands up and turn ourselves in?” Moira said, paying more attention to the thriving city below. It made no sense to her to turn themselves over to Raiders. It didn’t exactly make sense to try and cut a deal with loan sharks that only wanted her dead because of who she was with.

The only solution that should’ve made sense was leaving. The thought made her feel uneasy. Leaving just wasn’t an option. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to stay with him, but for now they were here. Together.

She only nodded when he asked if she was ready. Moira was too lost in thought when he laid out the plan. Not something she was accustomed too. Moira was a woman who lived her life by the book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and Farmer are prisoners. They begin to embrace their mortality and answer some difficult questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a bit of smut. They're falling in love. 
> 
> Are you?

It had been three days, give or take a few hours according to Moira’s calculations. Turning themselves in to the raiders had gone easy enough. Farmer was known to them, and they were almost afraid of him she had noted. They kept their distance for sure. The pair was kept together in a large open warehouse space. Common courtesies were provided to them in the form of three square meals a day. Which is three more meals a day then Moira was used to lately, so all things considered, she was feeling great.

“This has been amazing.” She said out loud, pushing the metal tray away an swallowed down the rest of her rations.

“Why are you so cheery?”

“This is an amazing experience. I’m taking in so much firsthand knowledge, I can write a survival guide about just raiders!”

“That’s if we don’t die first.”

“Oh.” Moira frowned. She hadn’t thought about dying since being here. “Don’t you think they want something from us if they’re keeping us alive this long?”

“You’re probably right. That can’t be good either.”

“How do you know these people?” Moira looked at Farmer in her usual quizzical way. Her dark brown hair fell into bands over the slim forehead. Her face was smushed together as she leaned against her hand. The constant unquenchable thirst for knowledge was amazing.

Farmer realized in this moment how adorable she was. Not just adorable though, she was pretty. Beautiful, even. Not just her physical appearance. There was something about this woman that he never experienced in another woman. Another person, ever before. And now of course they were going to die. Together.

“I don’t know them per-se. I have a reputation that precedes me. Good or bad, around these parts.”

“What reputation is that?”

“I killed a man. Well, I’ve killed plenty of men. More than my fair share. A specific man means a lot to the leader of this army.”

“Did you murder his brother or something? How cliché.”

“That is about the gist of it. I was working, came across the Lone Wanderer in trouble, out in the Capital Wastes. I seen him wander obliviously into an old Relay station. Used to be a Brotherhood stronghold, but raiders took it over. Place was crawling with those crazy assholes. Their leader was a real whack-job carried a huge torch everywhere. Showed up just in time. They hold me responsible, of course.”

“That’s intense. Quite the life you’ve had. Very exciting.”

“I must’ve picked the wrong line of work.”

“I still don’t fully understand what it is you do, but it sounds like you’re doing good. And that’s better than doing nothing. You’re mysterious, stranger.” Moira said, smiling. 

The roar of an engine started, and quickly sputtered to a stop. It was small. The stopped-up motor was close. Its mangled rev bounced through the hallway. A moment of pure silence passed, and the machine clicked into full roar. This time, it didn’t stop. A perilous yelp roared over the sound for a moment. The next sound was soft. Blade tearing through flesh. 

Moira toppled forward onto all fours, and fell face first into Farmers chest. “What is that?” 

“A ripper. It’s used for, well. Nothing good comes from it.”

Moira didn’t say anything. She cried. A prisoner of raiders equipped with weapons and things called A ripper. A man was being tortured and there was nothing she, or Farmer could do about it. What’s even worse was, it was inevitable they were next. For the second time this week, Moira’s life was flashing before her eyes. The unanswered questions fueled her moment.

“We’re going to die.” She said matter-of-factly. “I can’t die yet. I have so many unanswered questions.”

“Ask away. I’ll see if I can help.” Farmer answered. He squeezed her tighter into his chest. 

“My’qell. Was that his real name?”

“No. He was born Dave. Just Dave. Last year a trading caravan came through and a guy selling ceramic pots was named Dave too. He went into a rage and demanded everyone call him Michael. A week later they came back through, and sure enough a settler was with them named Michael. So he changed it to ‘My’Qell.’ “

“Poor fella’. I thought he looked like a Dave.” Moira pulled her face from against the warmth of Farmers shirt. She rested the side of her face against the width of his shoulder. “Okay. The man who attacked me. He called me pretty.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Am I?” 

“Are you pretty?” Farmer repeated the question back to her. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. He looked at her, absorbed the essence of her being. “You’re beautiful Moira. The brown of your eyes are mesmerizing sometimes. I get lost in them. The wonder that hides behind those brown globes is envious. You’re amazing. Pretty does you no justice.”

“I’m confused. Is that a uh, yes, or a no?”

“A yes.” 

“Oh good. Okay. One more thing that man said had me scratching my head.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Whats a blowjob?”

Farmer laughed. The first genuine laugh he could remember having in a long time. “Are you serious? You’re pulling my leg.”

Moira pulled away from his embrace. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just, come on. You’ve given a blowjob once or twice in your life. Hell I did some rather unsavory things out in the Mojave.”

“Is it something to do with sex?”

“Yeah, I mean. Sort of. Can I ask you a question?” Farmer asked. He reached out, taking ahold of her hand.

“Sure.”

“Have you ever, you know, been with a man?”

“Don’t be silly. I was with the Lone Wanderer a lot. I was with a lot of men in Megaton. I’m with you right now.”

“Oh wow. Not at all what I meant. I was trying to ask if you’d had ever, you know, slept with a man.”

Moira cringed at the thought. Who had time for trivial nonsense. “Absolutely not. I’ve never seen the point.”

“Fair enough. I know now how important your work is to you. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

She made a hand gesture that indicated she would like him to continue. Knowing it was about sex made her uncomfortable, but it was too late now. You never refused knowledge on its cusp.

“Okay. Well, when there is two people. One person is the man. The woman, or man, or ghoul, whoever he is with will put his uh, Penis in their mouth.”

“That doesn’t sound conducive to procreating.”

“Well, uh, I mean, I guess it is, and it isn’t. Sometimes things are done during sex that aren’t going to make a baby.” 

“Then why do people do them?”

“Because they feel good. That’s what sex is really about. No one cares about making a baby anymore. Sex just feels good, and people deserve to feel good.”

Moira took a moment to take in all the new information. She didn’t understand personally, but the logic added up. “Okay, okay.” She said, nodding. “I’ve never ever seen a real life penis.”

“Stop right there. I really like you. But this isn’t the time, or the place.”

“I’ll do one of those blowjobs. I’ve done a bunch of different jobs, but never a blow one. I’m a fast learner. I won’t let you down.” She looked him in the eye.

Farmer leaned across the gap separating them, held the side of her face and pushed his lips against hers. The warmth of their faces together sent waves of heat across their shared skin. Moira had never kissed a man before. She felt his tongue pushing against her tight thin lips, and allowed it to enter. He broke for air shortly.

“I refuse to take advantage of you in this situation. I just won’t allow it.”

She wasn’t one-hundred percent sure where she would find his penis, but Moira began to run her hand up his leg. The thick gray material of his jump suit made the trip difficult. He continued to stare into her eyes, until she reached his upper thigh, he leaned in again and pressed his mouth to hers. It was natural to her hand once she found the bulge protruding his garments. It was large. Larger then she had expected. 

They fumbled the zipper on his jumpsuit to his waist. Farmer broke the affection only long enough to pull his arms free. Once free, he pushed his legs from their restraints. He was nude. Moira had never seen a naked man before. His skin was rough. A man broken more then once, his exposed arms and chest were covered with various scars. She was beginning to understand how tough the world had been to him. Quickly her attention refocused on his throbbing manhood. She took hold of the base, wrapping her entire small hand around. Moira ran the tight circle of her fist slowly up to the head.

“I need to get a better look at this.” She whispered into his ear, and motioned for him to lay down on his back.

The bulbous end flickered as she touched it. Farmer moaned, the pleasures of having someone actually want to touch him without the promise of favor or caps was too much.

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” She responded, pulling her hand away. 

“Hurt? No. It feels good.”

Moira wrapped her hand around the base again. His balls hung loose below her exploration.

A terrible grinding noise howled through the hallway. It was louder than the ripper and screaming. It was followed by a heavy, raspy moaning, and almost on queue the lights above them flickered, and flashed off. The electricity went out, causing their automatic door to click open.

“What’s going on?” Moira asked, having lost interest in the penis in front of her. It was quickly deflating as Farmer sat up.

He lifted a single finger to his mouth to signal quiet. He listened, and again the moaning happened.

“Can we just catch a break?” He said, quickly climbing back into the jumpsuit. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“What is it?” Moira asked, peering out into the empty hall.

“Ferals.”

The sound of gunfire racked the cement above them, followed by an explosion and more sporadic bursts of bullets. 

They stepped into the darkness of the hallway, and into the middle of a war.


End file.
